Possession
by aviatrix
Summary: Draco is owned, body and soul. Warning: slash, incest, etc. No sequels, no updates: this is DONE. ok?


DISCLAIMER: all characters copyright J.K. Rowling. blah der blah blah.  
  
PAIRINGS: Draco/Lucius, Draco/Snape, Lucius/Snape implied  
  
WARNINGS: non-consensual chanslash (inc. incest), non-graphic. Draco's age is never mentioned, but he's written as 12 or so. deal with it or leave, it's as simple as that.  
  
A/N: catch the anachronism! also, i think i stole the 'close approximation' line from someone. sorry if it's you.  
  
******************  
  
"The Python, The Octopus, and the Angel of Destruction"  
  
or  
  
"Possession"  
  
Pt. I  
  
******************  
  
Draco Malfoy quietly let himself out of the house and into the garden. He tiptoed down the walkway, but only got a few feet before he was stopped by the door creaking open and slamming shut. He flinched at the sound of feet crunching heavily into the gravel, coming towards him.   
  
Lucius Malfoy grabbed his shoulder roughly and spun him around so they were face to face. "What on earth did you think you were doing back there?" he spat through clenched teeth.  
  
Draco shrugged sullenly. "Just having fun. I was bored half to death. I hate these stupid parties."  
  
"You will not take that tone with me, Draco," his father said furiously.  
  
"So what if I do?" Draco said, arching an eyebrow.  
  
Lucius's voice grew soft. "You are my son, Draco. Mine. I created you. I raised you. You are what I made you. Never, ever forget that." He drew his head up haughtily and strode back along the path to the house.   
  
"You can't control me!" Draco shouted after him.  
  
Lucius stopped. "Really?" he asked, not bothering to turn around.  
  
******************  
  
That night, Draco was awakened by a knock on his door. He flipped the latch with bleary eyes, and did his best not to shrink at the sight of his father looming above him. He allowed himself to be led back to his bed. As Lucius held his wrists tightly enough to leave marks and licked the hollows of his neck, Draco shut his eyes and pretended not to hear his father whisper //Mine// into his ear.  
  
He didn't open his eyes til morning.  
  
******************  
  
******************  
  
Pt II  
  
******************  
  
The wall was crumbling. In his office, by the door. It shouldn't have been, but it was: cracked stone, mortar dust drifting to the floor. Snape didn't even seem to notice it. Draco watched it, sometimes, distorted through the bottom of his glass.  
  
He had been coming here for a week, half-invited by searching looks and his name, said softly down at him. Strange expressions and the slightest of gestures, and Draco followed without hesitation. He knew this game well.  
  
So he came, and sat quietly, waiting for Snape to make his move. Snape watched the fire, Draco watched Snape (and, occasionally, the wall) and nothing much was done or said. Draco was dismissed with a head tilt and a hand motioned at the door, 11 PM sharp every night. He left without protest; he could wait.  
  
This night, however, Draco decided to take matters into his own hands. He prodded Snape into reluctant conversation: potions, Quidditch, and then:  
  
"Do you know what my relationship with your father was?" Snape asked, his eyes fixed on the fire.   
  
"No," said Draco. He smirked. At last, progress.  
  
Snape turned to him. "Neither do I," he said, his face contorted into a close approximation of a smile. "People like us - Lucius and myself, and presumably you as well, Draco - we don't fall in love. Not really. We covet, and hopefully we also possess. We love each other like we might a particularly beautiful knife."  
  
"Did you covet my father?" Draco asked lazily.  
  
"Yes," Snape replied.  
  
"And did you possess him?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Did he possess you?" Draco asked.  
  
Snape smiled. "For a time, yes."  
  
Draco shifted bonelessly in his chair, his legs folded in mock chastity. "And do you covet me, Professor?" he asked coyly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you possess me?"  
  
"Not yet," said Snape, his black eyes glittering.   
  
The clock on the desk struck eleven. Draco looked up expectantly, but Snape remained still. "Professor?" Draco asked.   
  
"You're not leaving, Draco. Not tonight." Snape was watching him intently.  
  
Draco nodded, and settled back into his chair. Snape stood up and walked over to an ornate wooden cabinet in the far left-hand corner of the room. He took out a small decanter of a brownish-green liquid. He poured some into a glass and came back to his seat, handing the drink to Draco.  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously, holding the glass a safe distance away from himself.  
  
"It's tea," Snape said. "I thought you might like to try something different."  
  
"None for you?" Draco asked. Snape shook his head. Draco sniffed the tea. "Smells minty," he said.  
  
Snape folded his hands in his lap. "It's eucalyptus."  
  
Draco shrugged, and took a sip. He grimaced."Bitter," he said, running his tongue over his teeth.   
  
"Python skin extract. A very strong relaxant."  
  
"Relaxant?" Draco asked, his voice a little shaky. He put the glass down.  
  
Snape sighed. "i'm planning on taking advantage of you, boy. I didn't want you fussing about."  
  
"Good thinking," Draco said weakly. He shivered, despite the heat of the fire.  
  
"Yes, I thought so," Snape replied calmly.  
  
Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "So will it be rape, then?"  
  
Snape smiled unpleasantly. "If you want to think of it like that, yes." He rose.  
  
Draco looked up at him. "Promise me one thing?" he asked.  
  
"Anything," Snape said as he glided over to Draco.  
  
"Tell me when you've got me."  
  
"Of course," Snape said silkily, and smiled again. Draco closed his eyes and waited.  
  
******************  
  
******************  
  
"And then you came back, you, the angel of destruction - just as I felt sure. In a moment, at your touch, there is nothing but ruin. O God, what have I done? The python. The octopus. Must I become after all what you would make me?"  
  
- T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party, Act One 


End file.
